A stroke of luck
by Chinese Bakery
Summary: “When he turned himself in, he didn't give up his freedom. He offered his head up on a plate.” Spoilers for 2x17, AU from there.
1. Chapter 1

**A stroke of luck **

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.

* * *

Something was not right. They had found what they'd been looking for. They were still alive. Kellerman probably wasn't, but that was just an added bonus. Still, his brother looked grim. He didn't like the resignation he caught in his eyes. 

"What's going on?"

"I made a deal with Pope," Michael answered as they stepped out of the car.

"You made a deal with Pope? What kinda deal?" Lincoln felt his heart race as he understood that by the look of him, his brother had done something incredibly stupid.

"If he came with us and if we got what we needed, I said I'd turn myself in," he sighed.

"What?" Lincoln roared, realising his brother may have just sentenced them all to death. "We don't even know what this thing is! It could be nothing, Michael. Did you know about this ?" he asked, turning to Sara. He didn't bother to smother the threat in his voice.

She shook her head and looked down. "Not until it came out of his mouth."

"It's the only thing I could think of. You two can still finish this. You'll just have to do it without me."

"I'm not gonna let you do this, Michael!" He watched helplessly as his brother walked to the house, raising a hand to silence him. He ignored it. "There's no coming back from this!"

But Michael didn't seem to listen. He directed his gaze to Henry Pope as he walked out the front door, looking stern and resolute.

"I suggest you two get the hell away from my lawn, because I'm calling the cops right now." He didn't acknowledge Sara as he handed the USB key to Lincoln before turning back to Michael, who nodded.

Lincoln seized the drive and stood as if frozen into place, mouth agape. When his anger took over once again, his eyes shot daggers at his little brother.

"Well done, Mike. Now we're really screwed!"

"No, you're not," he replied, struggling to keep his voice serene. "You're gonna get whatever's on this drive and leak it to the media. You need to move. Now. Both of you."

Sara looked helplessly at Pope. "Please, Henry, you can't…"

"He's right, Sara. You need to leave, now. I'm not going to tell you again." With one last severe stare, he walked back inside the house, knowing Michael would keep his end of the bargain and wait for the police escort.

At that, Lincoln shook his head and turned back to Sara.

"Let's go," he let out between gritted teeth.

"But, Michael..."

"There's nothing we can do about it now," he replied, his fury fully fleshed in the low, dangerous tone of his voice.

Standing by the car, Sara felt her panic rise at the thought of leaving Michael behind. He was undoubtedly going to be killed. Or rather, executed. He might not even make it to the police station. If he survived long enough to be sent back in jail, who knew how long he'd stay there this time around.

She watched him as he sat on the stairs before the house, resigned and composed. She wanted to plead with him, to beg him to run with them. When he didn't look back at her, she knew he wouldn't budge.

Lincoln jumped in the driver's seat and slammed the door. He noticed the slight shake of his own hands on the wheel as he waited for Sara to get in. His cheeks felt too warm, his whole body was boiling with repressed rage. After one last look at Michael, Sara obediently climbed into the passenger's seat. She looked smaller to him than she had just moments before. Silent tears were rolling down her face and she looked dazed. Out of it.

He started the engine and moved out of Pope's lane, before realising he had no idea where to go. Michael was the one who knew that. They had no plan, no clue as of what was coming next. Without him, they were doomed.

"What now?"

Struggling to recover enough to think despite her state of shock, she mumbled, "now, we go to my apartment."

"If you expect me to put out, you're gonna be sadly disappointed."

"My laptop. We need to know what's on this key."

The drive to Sara's place was spent in a freezing silence, except for her occasional directions between muffled sobs. Lincoln felt as angry as she was devastated and sharing was out of the question.

All she could think about was that she was never going to see him again. Her brain seemed to have lost the capacity to form any other thought. She cried in silence all the way back to what was left of her former life.

Lincoln, on the other hand, couldn't seem to shake out his anger at what a fucking idiot his genius of a brother was. Or had been.

By the time they parked in front of her building, Sara's eyes were reddened but she was visibly less distraught. It was worse, Lincoln thought to himself. She was defeated. If it weren't for him, he suspected she'd curl into a tight ball and wait for another trigger-happy secret agent to find her.

------------------------------------------------------------

Moments later, everything changed again. They were sitting at Sara's desk, both their hearts beating too fast as they listened to the very distinctive voice of President Reynolds planning in details with her former trusted vassal, one Agent Paul Kellerman, the faked murder of Terrance Steadman, his "retirement" in Montana and the framing of Lincoln Burrows.

At that, Linc let a predatory grin light up his otherwise grim face. For the first time, they were one step ahead of them.

Just then, the recording skipped to another conversation. The same two voices were now discussing the lethal poisoning of President Mills.

"My God..." Sara breathed, crushed between trepidation and disbelief, as the file reached its end and on the screen, the line of the media player fell flat.

They both stared at her computer for a long time, dumbfounded, before any of them dared to speak. That was so much more than either of them had expected. It was tangible, explosive. It was probably enough to get Lincoln out of trouble for the time being, but probably not… him.

They had been very careful not to mention his name.

"It needs to be authenticated", Sara breathed, forcing herself to rationalize her frenzied emotions, "otherwise, it's useless."

"You know how to authenticate a sound-bite?"

"Well..."

"Mike said to leak it to the media. That's what we're gonna do. They'll have the resources to prove it's not a fake. We can't wait here for one of them to find us."

"We can't give that up to the press. The Company would cover up for it."

There was a pause, then Lincoln frowned. "Jane."

"Who?"

"Jane. She worked with my father against the company. She'll know what to do."

"How do we reach her?"

"Phone." He stood up and walked to Sara's telephone.

"Not this one. Get a disposable."

She was vaguely aware that since they had left Michael behind, the communication had been shred to a bare minimum. She didn't feel very articulate anyway. She didn't feel much of anything. Her previous excitement had quickly worn off and she was falling back into the black hole of grief that had been threatening to engulf her completely.

He got up to grab his denim jacket and her keys.

"When this thing hits the wave, all bets are off," he said before closing the door behind him.

------------------------------------------------------------

"We meet up with her in two days. She's got everything we'll need to make the file usable."

She was sitting limply on the couch right where he had left her, staring idly at a spot on wall. When he called her name, she didn't react. There was no time for this.

Lincoln pulled her up as gently as he could in his agitated state and directed her to the bedroom, where an empty duffel bag laid open on the bed. He motioned for her to take what she needed and she started throwing random items in the bag. Every move seemed difficult, exhausting.

She felt like a discarded rag doll.

When she was done, she closed the bag and sat on the bed next to it. She couldn't think of what to do next. Her father was dead. Michael was dead. She wasn't sure why she was supposed to follow Lincoln. She had done her share and had no more part to play in all this. She wanted to tell him to just go and do what he had to do, but couldn't muster the energy to speak up.

Putting a hand on the small of her back, he got her up and pushed her to the front door. Her apathy was irritating. He was doing his best to hide it, both for her sake and his. Since Veronica had been shot, there hadn't been any time to mourn, but he could relate to her pain. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Michael was probably dead by now. Seeing her like this made it seem real and he couldn't deal with it.

It was going to be a long drive.

When they got in the car, he didn't turn on the radio for fear of hearing the news of Michel Scofield's death. He could live with uncertainty, for now.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sara hadn't talked since he had called Jane and he was starting to wonder if she may have fallen into some sort of catatonic shock state. With his brother gone, he was now responsible for her and she obviously needed to be taken care of. He pondered what to say for a moment before settling for the blunt approach.

"How do you feel, Sara?" he asked carefully.

Her voice was surprisingly firm when she turned to him to answer.

"Like the man I love just died. How do you think I feel?"

At any other time, she would have blushed at her own admission. Now, it seemed futile, ridiculous. She had fallen for him just in time to lose him. She needed to push away the memory of his intense blue stare and how soft he made her name sound or she wouldn't stay sane much longer.

"Michael's not dead, Sara," he said softly.

"Maybe not yet. But they're gonna kill him. You know that. When he turned himself in, he didn't give up his freedom. He offered his head up on a plate."


	2. Chapter 2

**A stroke of luck**  
Spoilers: Up to 2x17, "Bad blood"  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
A/N: Thanks to becoolbec for beta reading.

* * *

Michael was sitting placidly on the steps in front of Pope's door, wondering who, of the local police or the Company mercenaries, would be first on the scene. He knew his time was counted and there was every chance the conspirators would make sure he never had a chance to flee again. You can only run so far with a bullet in your head. 

Lincoln, Sara and LJ were safe and free and he told himself that was all that mattered. It didn't ease the raging ache in his gut or the tremor of his hands, but it allowed him to keep a serene facade. He only wished he had had the chance to make his farewells. In the distance, he heard the distinctive noise of the police escort coming for him.

He hadn't been able to look at Sara when she had left before. He didn't want her to understand the extent of his relinquishment. He was so tired of running, being caught was almost a relief. He was surrendering in every possible way.

He had felt her intense gaze, heard the silent supplication her eyes carried and had cowardly looked down instead of telling her what she needed to hear. His purpose was to make it easier on the three of them, but he had regretted it the second Lincoln started the engine and drove her away from him.

Lincoln, he knew, was still too consumed by his anger to feel any other, more slippery emotion. That would probably allow him to concentrate on the task ahead and help Sara to live through it. It was their very last chance at survival. For the two of them, at least. He wasn't optimistic about his own life expectancy.

The sound of the sirens grew louder and a minute later, three cars were parked in front of Pope's house. He told himself that it could be worse. He had just bought himself a few hours.

In a matter of seconds, he was brutally pushed face down to the ground, his cheek pressed in the grass of Pope's lawn. One of the cop's knee was pushing painfully in his lower back, leaving barely visible bruises on the inked skin. He felt the cold bite of metal on his wrists before he heard the click of the handcuffs. The weight on his back shifted and another set was placed on his ankles. They weren't going to take any chances.

As he was pulled to his feet, he heard, not for the first time, one of the police officers reciting solemnly: "...you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney..." He noticed a couple of passers-by had stopped to watch the scene. They were murmuring hastily to each other and Michael wondered what he looked like to them.

One of the cops pulled him towards his car at a swift pace and he struggled to follow due to the restrictive chains linking his ankles. As he was about to step into the car and an officer pushed his head down, he looked back to the house and caught a glimpse of Henry Pope's unreadable face behind the window. He shot him a sad smile before the door slammed shut.

-------------------------------

She couldn't remember when she had dozed off or how long she had slept but when she woke up, it was pitch black and they were parked outside a cheap motel. Lincoln wasn't in the car. She stretched and waited for him to come back and tell her what she was expected to do. She noticed the wrapped sandwich and soda can Lincoln had left on the dashboard for her and would have smiled at his unrefined thoughtfulness if she hadn't felt so inconsolable.

Minutes later, Lincoln emerged from the Motel's reception and motioned for her to get out and follow him to their room. He locked the door behind them and shut the blinds. As she took in the austere room, the questionable bedspread and the crackled, yellowing paint on he walls, she noticed a TV set was facing the bed. The persistent feeling of dread overcame her once again.

Lincoln followed her gaze and tensed. They both stared at the television, then at each other. After a moment, Sara gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Lincoln turned it on to Fox News. They were immediately confronted by Michael's expressionless face as he walked towards a police station between two jubilant police officers. His wrists and ankles were handcuffed, making his gait clumsy, hesitant. Seeing this brilliant, charismatic man ridiculed and belittled on national television hurt her as much as the renouncement she could read on his face.

Sara closed her eyes and tried to block out both the sight and sound of the news of Michael's apprehension. Despite her best effort, she caught snippets of the commentary. "...was captured this afternoon in Chicago... didn't resist arrest and was escorted by the local police... his transfer to Fox River penitentiary where he'll be awaiting trial in solitary confinement... additional charges may include aiding and abetting the escape of seven prisoners and up to five counts of complicity for the murders committed by fellow escapees Theodore Bagwell and Charles Patoshik... after the arrest earlier today of Benjamin Miles Franklin, three convicts are still on the run... »

When his own face appeared next to T-Bag and Sucre's mugshots, Lincoln turned off the television and the screen went black with a loud click. He sighed loudly. It wasn't good news, but it could easily have been worse.

"He's not dead," he observed blankly.

"Yet. Who do you think will handle his transfer?"

"You need to have a little faith, Doc."

"Michael said that, too. Look where it got him."

"It's a family thing."

"Well, I hope your faith is strong because anything short of a divine intervention's not gonna cut it this time."

She heard her own voice break again. She let her shoulders drop and looked down at her shoes, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her once more.

Lincoln hesitated just a few seconds before he grabbed her arm and pulled her abruptly to him. She clung desperately to his broad shoulders, letting her tears flow freely as she wept in his neck. When she felt her knees give way, he helped her to the bed and she collapsed in violent sobs. He held her until she was all cried out and fell asleep, never letting go of him.

When she woke up a couple of hours later, fully clothed but tightly entwined with a solid, male body, her first emotion was relief. She snuggled closer before the memory of the day before flooded her mind and she felt herself sink.

She carefully disentangled herself from Lincoln and went to sit on the floor, her knees pressed to her chest and her back to the wall. She noticed idly that she didn't seem to have any more tears left in her. She wondered if Michael was dead already. How they had done the deed. Where his body lay. She pictured his beautiful face with a gaping bullet hole to the forehead, his glazed, open eyes looking lighter than she remembered. She could see him lying down, his limbs twisted in weird and unatural angles, as clearly as the form of Lincoln's still body on the bed before her. And to her own astonishment, she felt an intense rage overtake her despair. Right then and there, she swore to herself to help in every way she could to take them all down, even if she had to die trying. They were going to pay for everything she had lost.

-------------------------------

An officer tossed him an orange jumper before shutting the plain door behind him. He was back in custody, with no sense of purpose to keep him up and fighting through it, this time around. With his wrists and ankles freed of the offensive handcuffs, he could pace around the small holding cell, trying to think of a way out of this, knowing there was none. He had been informed that he would be transferred back to Fox River the next day and would be held in ad seg until he was tried for the escape and complicity for T-Bag and Haywire's crimes. He reflected once more that his chances of reaching his destination were slim, anyway.

He didn't perceive any particular agitation from the officers in charge and reached the conclusion that the recording hadn't made it to the media yet. He was trying hard not to consider the possibility of anything happening to Lincoln or Sara. The Companies 'Yes' man who had shown up at the Cigar club to meet Pope had been pretty roughed up, but Kellerman could be still at large and probably quite bugged at having been left behind. And who was to know how many other minions wandered the streets, looking for the two of them and their precious USB key.

Michael carefully folded his casual clothes in a neat pile and slipped on the hideous orange uniform before lying down, hoping for a few hours of dreamless sleep.

He woke up with a start to the distant voice of one of the local cops who had escorted him earlier shouting, "Scofield. Your bodyguard's early." It still felt like the middle of the night, he couldn't have slept more than a few hours. Which meant that said bodyguard had been provided by the Company. He braced himself for the inevitable.

His heart raced as he stood up and waited, facing the door. He heard the familiar clank of the keys, the sound of heavily booted feet retreating down the corridors.

"Hello, Michael." He looked up to stare into a pair of icy blue eyes and frowned.

"Agent Mahone," he greeted with affected deference.

"You're all packed?" the other man asked with a predatory smile. "We're in a hurry."

Michael nodded and turned around, holding his hands behind his back to be cuffed.

Mahone all but strutted his way out, keeping Michael one step ahead of him and smiling ferally as he congratulated the locals for their outstanding work.

As they stepped out of the building, he gripped him by the neck and pulled him close to whisper near his ear, "Scofield, you have no idea how lucky you are that I could fly back here in time." With that, he pushed him to the backseat of his car and started the engine.


	3. Chapter 3

**A stroke of luck**  
Spoilers: Up to 2x17, "Bad blood"  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
A/N: Thanks to becoolbec for beta reading.

* * *

When he woke up at the break of dawn, he found her asleep, curled into a tight ball, on the floor next to the bed. She practically jumped at his throat when he shook her shoulder to wake her up and he told himself that was a good sign.

Sara still didn't talk much, but she looked better. Determined. She also seemed increasingly stiff, but that was a nice change from her previous lethargic state. Not that he would trust her with the wheel any time soon. She sat with her shoulder to the window, watching the road before them intently. After an hour of driving in silence, Lincoln thought it was time to try for a bit of light conversation

"So, who do you think recorded this thing anyway?" Or maybe not so light.

"I don't know... It could be anyone who had access to her office or private quarters at the time. It could be Kellerman himself, for all I know."

Lincoln chuckled. "Uh, I don't think so."

Sara turned to him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean our dearest sociopath secret agent is in love with President Mussolina."

"Allow me to doubt his capacities in the romance department. He doesn't strike me as a guy with an extended emotional range."

"Oh, I think he loves her. Actually, I'm pretty sure he only helped us 'cause she broke his heart." His smirk grew larger. "Although he said I couldn't understand the relationship."

Sara almost smiled at that. "Okay, let's say he does love her, however horrifying the thought. He's still, well, _him_. I wouldn't put it past Kellerman to collect material against his own mother. You know, just in case."

Lincoln had to agree. She was silent for a moment, her eyes back on the road.

"This Jane person. Do you trust her? I mean, completely trust her? With our lives?"

"I have too. I left my son with her. We're meeting them in Washington tomorrow afternoon. She's got internal contacts there who'll know what to do with the recording once it's proved legit."

If she was concerned about their destination or LJ's well-being, she didn't let it show. She retreated back into her thoughts and a thick silence fell back into the car. Sara seemed to be debating something and he didn't dare to interrupt her. After a moment, she shocked him by turning on the radio and fiddling with the channels until she caught a newsflash. What they heard then was exactly what they had both feared and Lincoln had to pull over to collect himself.

----------------------------

"...at the moment, escaped convict Michael Scofield's whereabouts are still unknown, after he was released from custody last night by a man who presented himself as a federal agent. Both men are now actively being searched for..."

"Sounds like you're in a bit of trouble, Alex."

"It's Agent Mahone, Scofield."

"So, what happens now? We drive to the desert and you put a bullet in my skull? Or do you need to bring back my severed head to your pals?"

"That sounds like a very satisfying scenario. However, it's not part of my current plan. Not for the time being, anyway."

"Care to fill me in?"

"Not really. Let's just say my employers and myself have reached a breaking point."

"Color me astonished. I guess we'll have to stick to _M__ister_ Mahone, then."

"Do me a favor, Scofield, and keep your smart-mouth to yourself. I need to think."

"How did you manage to get me out, if you're now persona non grata?"

"I guess all those press conferences finally paid off."

Michael smirked and muttered, "Ah, I see, to them, you're Mister Manhunt."

----------------------------

"We knew it was coming, Sara"

"I know. I didn't say anything."

"For the past... I don't know how many fucking hours. I noticed that."

"Excuse me if I don't feel very loquacious at the moment."

"Now is not the time to break down, Sara."

"I know that too."

"You're still doing it."

"I'm not breaking down, I'm... introspective." She paused and grimaced. "And I might be craving for a drink, or a shot, or..."

"I get it. Damn, I could use some booze too right now. But we need to stay focused."

"I. Know. That. Stop pestering me." She turned back to the window, ignoring him.

"Okay. Just checking on you."

The truth was he was having a collapse of his own, but introspection wasn't his strong suit. He wished Sara would talk about something, anything but... _that_. He wished he could punch someone or something. He wished he could get off his face and forget all about it. He wished he could kill with his bare hands the gang of bastards who had murdered his little brother, Veronica and Lisa, as well as damaged his son's life beyond repair. And most of all, he wished he could beat Michael into a bloody pulp for inflicting this on himself and on the both of them.

----------------------------

"We're gonna stop here for a few hours. If you want to live to see the next day, I suggest you don't try anything stupid."

Michael, who was uncomfortably laying accross the backseat with his arms bent behind him, sat up straigt and, raising an eyebrow, tried to catch the other man's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "You expect me to sleep with my hands cuffed behind my back?"

At that, the ex-agent chuckled. "Don't press your luck."

"You know, your former employers might find themselves in some trouble of their own in the very immediate future."

"How so?" Mahone asked with mild interest.

"Out of the loop, are we?" he asked with a smirk. "My brother recently acquired something they're gonna wish he didn't."

"What kind of something? You should know we're well past the time for charades, Scofield."

"I don't know exactly," he admitted. "But they sure did their best to stop us from getting it. In fact, it was worth stopping Governor Tancredi in quite a definitive fashion. If our connections are worth anything, it's gonna prove my brother's innocence and that your government's corrupted."

Michael bent to watch Mahone's face more closely. He was frowning but didn't seem particularly deterred. "Also, at some point, someone is bound to wonder about all those cons dropping like flies whenever you're around."

"What's that, a threat? A warning? I don't you if you've noticed, but we happen to be on the same ship at the moment. I thought you were a perceptive guy. You should have realised by now I don't have much left to lose. And that is most definitely a warning."

"Your wife and kid aren't enough?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Michael, but I believe that from now on, they'd both benefit from keeping as few ties with me as possible."

----------------------------

They had stopped again for the night and Lincoln had gone out to call Jane and LJ. Sara was stunned that no one had seemed to recognise them yet. Even with a baseball cap and a growing whiskers, she found Lincoln to be quite noticeable. But after all, T-Bag was still at large as well, despite numerous reports of his malign behaviour. As she waited, she paced the room earnestly before turning on the TV to learn that, as she expected, Michael was still missing. The report was vague and slightly perplexing. It still didn't mention who had broken him out, not that it mattered much to her. They had reached such a simplified state of affairs that people were either with or against them.

She hadn't paid Lincoln much attention since the news of Michael's disappearance had broken, but when he came back, she couldn't help but notice that his eyes looked suspiciously red.

"Are you alright, Lincoln?" she asked as softly as she could in her restless mindset.

"Fine. I'm perfectly fine. I just had to corroborate to my son that his uncle's corpse was about to surface somewhere in the coming days. Other than that, things are absolutely peachy."

She flinched before replying harshly, "Could you, I don't know, watch your language on that matter? It might come as a surprise, after all the time I had to digest the news, but it's still a sensitive issue for me."

"Sorry," he breathed and raised a hand in a gesture he hoped looked conciliatory. "Look, tomorrow, we get to Washington and we get this thing done. We take them down, all of them. The President and all her freaking minions. Fuck knows they've earned it."

She nodded and went to lock herself in the bathroom to wash off her face and gather her thoughts. The freezing water on her face reminded her of a very unfortunate memory, which now seemed distant, ancient. She embraced the muted panic it brought back in her as a sign she was still alive enough to feel such a strong emotion. She kept her face under the flowing water until she felt on the verge of screaming.

In the other room, Lincoln clicked the TV back on and listened to the same report of Michael's vanishing. He had to demonstrate an amazing measure of control not to punch a wall or the TV set itself. His whole body was clenched so tightly he thought he might snap in two.

When Sara's trembling frame emerged from the bathroom, they took in each other's afflicted state and reached an unspoken agreement. They both sat down to watch, hypnotized, the ongoing newsflashes that felt very much like a knife being twisted into their wounds.

Little did they now that in another motel, less than two hundred miles away, Paul Kellerman was checking his weapons and getting ready to settle his own score with his former love.


	4. Chapter 4

**A stroke of luck **

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.

* * *

"I thought we were supposed to meet her in Washington?" 

"We are."

"This is the middle of nowhere."

"It's safer to meet in a quiet area. We'll move to DC when we're all set."

"You keep talking like there is a plan, but you have no idea what's gonna happen next."

"True, but Jane does."

"Does she? She's late. I don't like it."

Moments later, a large black car was coming towards them at full speed. When it parked next to theirs, Lincoln waited until he saw Jane's familiar face emerging gracefully from the driver's seat to get out of his own vehicle.

LJ opened the passenger's door and a second later, he was crashing into his father's chest, nearly knocking him down.

"God, I missed you, Dad," he mumbled, his face pressed in his father's shoulder. "I was so worried..."

"I know, son. I missed you too."

"Uncle Mike..."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, LJ."

The young man sniffed and took a step back from Lincoln, before turning to Sara. "Hi," he said timidly.

"Hi, LJ. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Okay, there'll be time for the niceties later," Lincoln announced as he nodded to the other woman. "Jane," he mumbled, while giving her an unreadable look.

Sara smiled to herself at Linc's trademark abrupt greeting. Jane responded in kind and soon enough, they were all back in their cars and on their way to her safe house.

-------------------------

Despite her reservations, Sara had to admit that Jane seemed to be a valuable associate. Her demeanor was professional, straight to the point and, much to Sara's relief, she didn't waste any time with light chattering. As soon as they had arrived to the house, she sent a very annoyed LJ to his room and plugged in the USB key.

Jane listened to the file carefully three times in a row, before checking its time stamp. Sporting a feline smile, she declared, "Excellent. Not only does it exonerate you, but it implies the President directly. We're going to give it to Cooper Green. He's a former Deputy Attorney General, long time friend of Aldo. I'd say this is enough for him to get Reynolds impeached and thrown behind bars."

"Wait, you expect me to trust a government insider? I'm not giving anything to this guy until I'm sure I can trust him," Lincoln barked, glaring at her dangerously.

Sara noticed that it had taken less than 15 seconds for him to become thoroughly aggravated and shook her head. Unwilling to sit through another Burrows outburst, she made her excuses and exited the room to join LJ, leaving the pair to discuss their plan.

"He was part of the government under Mills, actually. Allow me to believe years of collaboration are worth more than an appropriately masculine handshake."

"The second this thing falls into the hands of anyone close to the President, they're gonna make sure it's discredited before we can use it in any way."

"This is not the West Wing, Lincoln. The people in the White House, they're not well-meaning idealists working together to make the world a better place. They don't play well with others. I know who's trustworthy in that place. If we do anything stupid, like send it directly to the media..."

"Newsflash, Blondie: I'm not as dumb as I look," Lincoln growled in frustration.

"Call me Blondie again and I'll have to break both your legs," she replied, shooting him her best no nonsense stare. She looked perfectly composed, whereas Linc's face was rapidly flushing, letting his rising anger show.

"This is bullshit. I'm not giving it up yet, it's all we have left!"

"Let me set this straight. You ask for my help, we do things my way. I'm not giving you my opinion on that matter. I'm telling you how this is gonna work."

"Let's say for a minute I agree to give the tape to your guy. What happens next?"

"We let Green take it up to the Attorney General. In the meantime, we have to find your brother."

"What are you talking about? My brother is dead, they took him down!"

"According to my sources, it's not the Company that abducted him. They're still looking for him as we speak. Interestingly, they're also desperate to find the man who broke him out."

Lincoln felt his heart stop, then start again, only faster.

"Kellerman?"

"Alexander Mahone. We believe he wants to use Scofield as a currency."

"Currency in exchange of what?"

"Probably his family's safety. His son was involved in a suspicious car accident, right after you escaped him in Albuquerque."

"Wait, his family's safety? What about his?"

"I might be wrong, but my guess is that he's past worrying about his own security. His recent behaviour's proved to be dangerous, if not suicidal. I'd say he's trying to make a deal so the Company doesn't go after his kid or his ex after he's gone."

"So, basically, you're telling me Mahone's got a death wish and Michael's alive, but still screwed."

"I'm telling you we need to find him before he can use him."

He hesitated a few seconds before saying, "Don't tell Sara."

"Why not?"

"If you're wrong, or we're too late... There's no need to get her hopes up. She's had it hard enough already."

"What about your hopes? LJ's hopes?"

"Did you tell LJ you thought..."

"No. I don't tell him anything. For his sake and ours."

"Good. Me, well... Let's just say if Mike's alive, I get to kill him myself." He paused, frowning. "What is it to you anyway? He's got nothing left you need. Why would you risk anything to rescue him?"

"I promised your father I'd do everything I could to protect the three of you."

"What was there exactly, between Aldo and you?"

She shot him a look that told him everything he needed to know, while making it clear he'd better not press the issue.

-------------------------

"Hey."

"Hi." LJ was laying on his bed and staring at the wall, too consumed in his brooding to even look at her.

"So, what's up."

"What's up? Everything is turning to shit, my relatives are dropping like flies and those who are still standing? They still treat me like I'm eight. Life is good."

"They're only trying to protect you," Sara said soothingly as she sat on the bed next to him.

"I'd say it's working well. I'm so sick of hiding in this shit-hole..."

"You know, you're a lot like your father", she said, mostly to herself.

"My father the juvenile delinquent, my father the death-row inmate, or my father the most wanted man in America?"

"Why don't you cut him some slack? He loves you. He's doing everything he can to get the both of you out of this mess. When this is all over, you'll still have a dad..."

"I heard about your father. I'm sorry."

"Yeah", she sighed. "Let's not go there, okay?"

"Okay."

Sara made herself comfortable next to the teenager and they both stared at the wall facing them for a few minutes.

"So Uncle Mike and you. You were, uh, together?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry about him, too."

"Me too, LJ. Me too."

-------------------------

"You still won't tell me where we're heading?"

"I don't have to tell you anything. You're a hostage, remember?"

"Oh, I know that. What I don't know is why I'm still alive or what you expect to get in exchange of my... delivery."

"You're a smart man. Why don't you figure it out?"

"You know, I've been wondering how this whole conspiracy's been working well enough to rule the country when their agents keep going freelance one after the other."

"They're a deceitful bunch. Full of deceitful people. It's bound to happen sooner or later."

"I'd say. So, I suppose they've been threatening your family?"

"That's standard procedure in this business."

"You're talking about them as if they were the mafia. Oh, wait..." Michael replied with a self-satifised smile, before his expression grew serious again. "Do you really expect that after you take me to them, they'll let you go free?"

Mahone chuckled humorlessly. "No. That's not how it works."

"So, they kill me, they kill you... What makes you think they'll keep their end of the deal and leave your family alone?"

"We're both dead men anyway. At least I'll have tried."

"What about you wait long enough for my father's associates to take them down?"

"You're faith is refreshing, but they've been trying for thirty years already."

"They didn't have hard evidence then."

"You have no idea what they have now."

"I know how badly they wanted to stop us from getting it. Think about it. They don't want us back in jail, they want us dead. And more importantly, tongue-tied."

"Perhaps they only find you're relentless chatting annoying," the ex-agent replied, effectively ending the conversation.

-------------------------

"There's no talking about it. The both of you are staying here and laying low. We have enough to worry about as it is. You're not to leave this house until we return."

Sara nodded and put a hand on LJ's shoulder, hoping to appease the furious young man. He shook her off and rushed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll take care of him", she whispered to Lincoln as she hugged him, before shaking Jane's hand awkwardly.

"I'll drive", Jane announced as they exited the house.

"That's... mind-boggling news," Lincoln replied derisively. "I take it you're not the damsel in distress kind, after all."

"You're hardly a knight in shining armour," she shot back, as she started the engine.

"Green's expecting us?"

"Yes. He's flying back from Chicago as we speak."

"And you're sure his phone's not tapped or something?"

"We're careful people."

"Until you're not careful enough and you get killed."

"Shit happens. You'd better sit back and wait to be found?"

"No, Madam. As established, we do as you say."

Jane's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're smartning up, Burrows. And to say Aldo warned me you were gonna be trouble."

He was impressed by her driving skills. Fast and smooth, zigzagging easily between the other vehicles. As they got closer to DC, they passed a light-colored car without paying it any attention, unaware that the driver had, indeed, recognized the both of them. Paul Kellerman smiled to himself as he passed them again, and silently wished them luck. After all, he had an agenda of his own, a very _personal_ agenda, and little time to waste playing by the rules.


	5. Chapter 5

**A stroke of luck **

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.  
A/N: I hate this chapter. A lot. I'm sorry you have to suffer through it. Only one more to go.

* * *

When she had decided to come along and do whatever it took to help Lincoln bring the President down, looking after an aggravated teenager was not what she had in mind. As it turned out, with no other adult to rebel against, LJ was now being difficult with _her_. And as much as she wanted to be understanding, LJ was starting to piss her off.

In the short time they had spent together, there had been a lot of stomping, yelling and door slamming, but mostly, an ongoing shouting match.

"You know what? I wish Mike had just left him there to die. It wasn't worth it, any of it! Everybody keeps dying and we're trapped in this hell hole waiting for them to find us and put a bullet in our heads! My Mom is dead, Michael let himself be killed..."

"Michael did everything he could to ensure the safety of the both of you! He wanted you to grow up with a father. If you can't take it, that's tough! Your life sucks? Tough again. 'Cause you know what? So does mine. I hate that I'm stuck here with nothing to do and way to much time to think. I hate that my father died thinking I had let him down once more. I hate that the man I just fell in love with was murdered weeks after we met. I really hate that when you were locked in your room, I checked every single cupboard in this fucking house in case there was a bottle of scotch hidden somewhere and..."

LJ stopped her with a fierce hug and she suddenly realised she had been sobbing quite loudly throughout her little tirade. As LJ kept a firm hold on her, whispering soothing words in to her ear, she became fully aware of how ridiculous she was being, crying in the arms of a sixteen year old who had been through just as much as she had. Yet, she couldn't seem to get a hold on herself.

He waited until she had calmed down completely to speak again. "Look, I know I'm giving you a lot of shit. I've been locked up in here for days with nothing to do, I'm going crazy. Don't you wish you could do... more? They're risking their lives out there and you're babysitting."

"So are you, apparently," she countered with a teary smile.

He waited a minute before asking timidly, "Do you ever think about your old life?"

Truth be told, she didn't know how to answer him. She wasn't sure she remembered her old life. She knew the facts. She remembered going through the motions. The buzz of her alarm clock at 06h30 every morning. The drive to Fox River, the light chatting with Katie. Brad's inappropriate comments. The weekends spent reading novels and watching TV, waiting for a providential emergency call from work. The everyday battle not to let her former addictions get in the way. The sleepless night spent hoping there was more to life than waiting for something good to finally come. All along, she had told herself she was happy, when she was only functioning.

She knew the facts, but she couldn't remember what it had felt like to be Doctor Tancredi. The person who hadn't found her father's dead body, who hadn't been electrocuted and almost drowned, who had never tried to murder someone, or even considered it. The woman who hadn't felt her heart flutter against her better judgment every time Michael Scofield flirted with her in the infirmary. Or had to watch him throw himself into the lion's den. She didn't know how to live being that woman.

No, she didn't think about her old life often, but at the same time, she didn't want to think about the one ahead of her either.

-------------------------

Lincoln paced around Green's office while they listened to the tape once more, then sat down, his feet nervously tapping the ground. Jane glared at him, silently ordering him to be quiet, but the former Attorney General didn't seem to notice his restless state.

With a glint of triumph in his eyes, he announced, "I'm calling the AG right now. There's no time to waste, we need to meet him tonight, before anyone elese can get a hold of this." Jane nodded and shot another meaningful look at Lincoln.

Half an hour later, Attorney General Craig Williams entered Green's office with a somber face. If he was surprised at the presence of one of the most wanted men in America in his old friend's office, he didn't let it show.

"Let's hear it", he breathed out, sitting in front of the laptop. As they replayed the sound file once more, Lincoln watched, entranced by the play of conflicting emotions on Williams face.

"Okay," Williams said, looking sterner than ever. "I'm appointing a special prosecutor to investigate President Reynolds. Tonight. If her malignant behavior is proven, and with this piece of evidence, I believe it easily will be, she'll be impeached and tried. Do you know who the other speaker is?"

"Yeah. Secret agent Paul Kellerman," he supplied, spitting out the ex-agent's name as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Alias Owen Kravecki", supplied Jane.

"Do you think we can get a hold of him?"

Lincoln shook his head. "What happens to me? My brother?"

"This file is enough to exonerate you. There's a procedure, of course, but given the circumstances, there is little chance you'll be tried for escaping prison. As for your brother... His case is much more complex. He committed an armed robbery and helped aid the break out of prisoners who won't be proven innocent any time soon. He can plead not guilty due to circumstances, but there's no guarantee he'll be let off without any charges. I'd say his best chance is a presidential pardon from the next administration. If Reynolds go down in flames, it will be easy enough to obtain."

"And will we have to sit in jail while waiting for that to happen?."

"It's not exactly procedure, but I think I might be able to convince the appointed Judge to be clement enough so that the two of you will be able to await trial as free men. You will have to respect the, likely strict, conditions of your bail of course."

"Fair enough. What about the innocent bystanders? My son? Sara Tancredi?"

"I wouldn't worry about them. Mr Burrows, when the exact content of these tapes hits the networks, you're gonna become national heroes, the martyrs of a corrupted and illegitimate government. I suggest you prepare yourself to become the new media sensation."

-------------------------

"...At this time, we can confirm a special prosecutor was appointed earlier this evening after claims were made of President Caroline Reynolds' direct involvement in several suspicious deaths. The details of those claims are yet to be made public..."

On the backseat, Michael looked very much like a child on Christmas morning. "It's happening, Alex. There's no stopping it now. Looks like the time has come for you to choose your next move carefully."

"You think you're out of the woods? An investigation means nothing, Scofield. You're not armed enough to fight them."

"Oh, I think we are. Reynolds is going down. My brother is going to be found innocent. Sooner or later, people are gonna wonder why you wanted us dead so badly."

"Do you really think a bunch of mercenaries in cheap formal suits can take on the government and its... benefactors? They're gonna turn you into a public joke. Again. Then everything will go back to the way it was before. She'll swear on the bible she didn't know a thing. Lackeys' heads will roll, and she'll run for re-election as if nothing ever happened. Even if she had to resign, they'll put someone else in office, someone who'll be a lot less trouble than Caroline Reynolds. Nothing will change."

"You're running on empty here. If you step up, you'll get protection. Same goes for your family. You sure you don't want to join the party?"

"There is no party, Scofield. It will be over before it even starts."

"Why don't you let me go and see for myself?" he insisted.

"Remember that guy outside the Cigar Club? That's Bill Kim. He doesn't answer to the President. The people you should be afraid of, they'll be there long after she's gone. And until I reach an agreement with them, you're not going anywhere."

Michael sighed. The road was quiet, they hadn't passed a car in a while. It was his best shot, his only shot. "It's a good thing you got a civilian car, Alex."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty intent on watching that particular show from up-close," he said, readjusting his position on the backseat.

Mahone didn't have time to register what was happenning before Michael started kicking wildly in his direction, angling his body to cause as much harm as possible. Reflexively, he let go of the wheel to protect himself from the furious blows, but couldn't match the forceful energy of Michael's desperation and lost control of the car.

The vehicle went careening to the side of the road and there was the deafening sound of breaking glass and bending metal before everything went black and silent.

-------------------------

When Michael opened his eyes, he wasn't sure if he had been out for minutes or hours. Everything was quiet and still around him. His whole body hurt like hell, but he didn't seem to be missing any limbs. He was lying between the front seats of the car, which appeared to be upside down. All the windows were smashed, pieces of glass were everywhere. His hands still cuffed behind his back, he awkwardly manouvered himself out of the car through the broken window frame.

Getting to his feet, he noticed Alex's bloody form had flown through the windscreen and now lay on his side several feet away. He limped his way closer to him and kicked the man's arms softly. No reaction. He kicked a little harder. Still nothing. He knelt down, his back to him, and searched frantically in his pockets for the handcuffs keys. "Next time, you might want to fasten your seat belt, Alex", he muttered. After freeing himself, he searched Mahone's pockets some more without success, before exploring the scene to retrieve the fed's cell and weapon that had flown ahead on the road. To his immense relief, the cell seemed to be still working.

He sat down against the car and carefully removed a fragment of glass from his arm before dialing the number his brother had him commit to memory, just in case. He was thoroughly relieved when someone picked up after the first ring.

"Yes?"

"Hi. Could you tell my brother I need a ride, please?"

"Scofield?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Do you know where you are?"

"More or less."

"Right. Tell me what you know about your location."

-------------------------

"Sara. We're coming back now. We'll be there in a few hours. Everything turned out okay."

"I saw the news."

"Yeah, it went well. It went... much better than I expected, actually."

"It's on every freaking channel. Reynolds is practically out of the pictura already. They're gonna look into her funding, her connections with the oil lobby, everything," she exclaimed, strengthening her grip on LJ's shoulder, who sat besides her on the couch, remote in hand and mouth agape.

"Yeah, the guy they appointed is quite the bulldog from what I hear. Doesn't let go easily. Look, I need to tell you something."

"Oh God. What now?"

"No, it's good news, Doc. Michael's with me. He's fine. Well, he's a bit roughed up, but he'll be okay."

Sara's mouth opened, then closed. She was speechless, and apparently had lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. When the silence stretched on the line, Lincoln started to worry.

"Sara?"

"I'm still here."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Okay..."

"How.. " She stopped, not knowing what to ask exactly.

Lincoln answered her anyway. "Mahone was working against the Company when he picked up Michael. Well, sort of. He wanted to exchange him for something. But as it turns out, my little brother can be quite belligerent. He got in a car accident, though, he's all bloody and sore. Might need a check up. You've got your doctor things with you?"

"Yes," she choked, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Is he okay? I mean, is he seriously injured?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

"Can I talk to him?"

Lincoln checked on his brother through the rear-view mirror. No, still passed out. Lincoln might not be the brains of the pair, but he knew how to throw a good punch.

"Not now, he's sleeping like a baby. You'll see him for yourself in a couple of hours. How are you and LJ holding up?"

"Besides your son turning all emo teenager rebel on me, and me on him, you mean? We're fine."

She could practically hear him frown as she hung up.

"They're coming home. With Michael," she added, turning to enjoy the look of sheer astonishment on the teenager's face.

-------------------------


	6. Chapter 6

**A stroke of luck **

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my laptop.  
Thanks to becoolbec for beta-reading.

* * *

Alexander Mahone woke up to the feel of a vicious kick to his side. He opened his eyes to see a short man in a dark suit smirking down at him, a gun pointed to his face. His vision was blurry and it took him a minute to recognize the man. When he did, he tried to move but realised he couldn't move his legs and an intense pain was nailing him down to the ground. The smallest motion of his head to the side was torture. He tried to take in his surroundings, whatever glimpse he could catch from where he was laying. Flashes of a car accident filled his mind, but the more he tried to collect his memories of the day before, the more everything seemed to become fuzzy and faint. Satisfied of his diminished state, Bill Kim spoke up. 

"You know, you've been nothing but an embarrassment to us, Alex", Kim stated, without losing his self-satisfied smile.

Despite the rising pain, Mahone managed to chuckle. "Your ship is sinking, Bill. Soon enough, you'll be embarrassed for a whole different reason."

"We both know Reynolds is irrelevant. She's as disposable as you are."

"They're on to something, you know. That public investigation, it's not going away. Heads are going to roll."

"Unfortunately, you won't be around to see it."

"Do what you will. It's over, for the both of us." He laughed to himself as he went on, "Who would have thought an overgrown juvenile delinquent and a broody structural engineer would outsmart your lot?"

Kim's smile faded as he readjusted his aim at the injured agent. Mahone smiled softly and, knowing what was coming, fought his reflexes to keep what little dignity he had left. He didn't close his eyes or look away when Kim clamped his finger on the trigger.

-------------------------

The second she heard the distant sound of a car driving at full speed near the house, Sara ran to the porch and watched it park, keeping her shaking arms wrapped around her body, as if to try to stop her heart from bursting out of chest. She watched Lincoln and Jane get out of the vehicle and walk to her with matching grins. She barely paid them any attention though, because moments later, the backdoor opened and she saw a familiar short haired head slipping out awkwardly.

He didn't look too good. From where she was standing, she could see the thick layer of dry blood plastered on his eyebrow and dark stains all over the shirt of his orange prison uniform. He stood against the car and looked up at her expectantly, not trusting himself to move. She noticed a nasty bruise was forming near his left eye.

"Oh God, Michael," she breathed, clamping her hands on her mouth before running to him and crushing him in a tight embrace. Finally feeling his very real, very alive warm body against hers, she shut her eyes, blocking the outside world and losing herself in the now familiar scent of his skin as her head nestled in his neck.

She felt him wince and took a step back. "Oh God, you're hurt. I'm so sorry..." Before he could reply, she grabbed his hand and, dismissing his reassuring smile, commanded, "Come on in, I'll check you out."

"Uncle Mike!" LJ yelled as he appeared at the front door and ran to them. Before he went to hug him, he took in Michael's rough state and looked helplessly from him to Sara.

"I'm okay, I just need a little patching up", Michael said soothingly as he patted he shoulder of the worried teenager before limping his way to the house behind Sara.

LJ turned to his father who grabbed him forcefully and hugged him, ruffling his hair.

"It's over, son. We're okay."

"Is he gonna be alright?"

"Sure. Doc's gonna fix him, they just need a little privacy," he told him, before adding with a smirk, "it might take a while."

-------------------------

Sara helped him to sit down on her bed and went to close the door before grabbing a large bag. She hurriedly threw all sorts of bottles, cloth and band-aids next to him then helped him to remove his shirt.

He sat still and obedient as she inspected closely his numerous cuts and bruises, feeling the warmth of a faint blush creeping up his neck. He noticed Sara sported a blush of her own, as she fought with herself to keep her demeanour professional and focused. He thought to himself this had to be one of the least romantic reunions ever and smirked.

"They all look fairly superficial," she stated with a relieved smile.

"Are you gonna pour peroxide one me again?"

"Nope, this time, I came prepared," she replied, opening a bottle of antiseptic lotion. "Anything else bothering you?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just sore."

"Your brother mentioned a car accident."

"I'm fine. Nothing but scratches."

She eyed him suspiciously as she started working on the minor lacerations around and above his eyebrow. "You've got a black eye," she noted, nodding to his other eye.

"That was Lincoln."

"He's still pissed off at you, uh?"

Michael smiled and watched her closely as she took care of his other cuts, his eyes going from her concentrated face to the hands applying disinfectant and band-aids to his chest. Despite his less than stellar form, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to notice that they were alone, he was half naked and she was touching him. Just as he was trying to fight that line of thought, her hand brushed against his nipples and he was instantly covered in goosebumps. He inhialed sharply and searched for her eyes.

Her troubled gaze found his and she stopped breathing altogether. Her eyes fell to his mouth and before she had time to register what was happening, she was straddling him and they were kissing as if the world was about to end, her desperation matching his as they fought for dominance. But before it went any further, he broke the kiss and leaned back, gently pushing her until she was sitting next to him again. When he noticed her puzzled expression, he seized her hand and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

"Sara... This might not be a good time for..."

"We're alone. We're alive."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Aren't you?"

"Me? Hell, yes. But if we start this, I might not be able to stop."

"You'd better not try to."

"I'm not talking about just now."

"Me neither."

"We're damaged."

"That, we are."

"It doesn't scare you?"

"Scare me? I've been terrified ever since you recited my senior quote."

His free hand went to caress her cheek and push back a strand of hair from her forehead. "All this time I was with Mahone, I was afraid I'd never get to see you again. I couldn't think about anything else. I didn't worry about Lincoln or LJ, just... You."

"Until this morning, I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry," he breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm not," she replied and kissed him for all she was worth. It wasn't gentle or sweet, neither of them wanted it to be. He grabbed at her hair when he felt her nails biting the skin of his back and disentangled from her just enough to take off her shirt as she fought with his belt. Moments later, they were naked and he was kissing his way down her body, all pain forgotten in a rush of adrenaline and excitement.

-------------------------

Paul Kellerman was sitting by a window of the tall tower facing the Special Prosecutor's office. His eyes were firmly fixed on the door of the opposing building behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his fingers set on the sniper rifle's trigger. He'd been waiting for several hours already, along with the bodies of the previous occupants of the room, which lay in a pile at the corner of the room.

The roars of the crowd outside grew louder as the shamed soon-to-be ex-President finally made her way out between several bodyguards. Paul took a second to watch her face through the telescopic lense of the weapon, memorizing her sour expression. He couldn't remember ever seeing her so defeated, and he fought the faint feeling of worry and affection that unexpectedly rose in him.

Fortunately, he wasn't one to dwell on the past or to let his emotions take him over. With a well adjusted bullet right between her eyes, he shot the only woman he had ever cared for besides his sister. In a satisfyingly disgraceful motion, she fell limply to the ground and he heard a collective scream of surprise and panic. He had to admit to himself that he was slightly surprised not to feel any regret or sorrow. Maybe it would come later, if he made it out of there and got the chance to stop being a well-trained agent and become a man again. It would be nice, to become a Lance, or an Owen, for good.

Wasting no time, he put on a baseball cap and one of the unfortunate bystander's casual coat, before running down the stairs to join the civilians. A minute later, he was making his way through the crowd but to his dismay, he couldn't catch a glimpse of Caroline's dead body. Despite the frenzy, he easily retreated to his car parked around the block and left the site moments before the police locked the crime scene.

Feeling nothing but a great sense of accomplishment, he put on the radio to listen to the news of Caroline Reynolds' assassination as he drove north, musing on the details of his new identity and the life waiting for him across the Canadian border.

-------------------------

Sated and content, Sara lay on her side next to him with a leg draped around his thighs and her head buried in his neck, her new favourite place in the world. She placed a couple of tender kisses behind his ear before bringing the both of them back to reality with a simple question.

"So. What now?"

"Well, from what Jane told me, Lincoln's exoneration is pretty much a formality at this point. I'm going to be charged with a whole lot of crimes and probably be pardoned the minute I'm sentenced. With all the media coverage, the Company should leave us alone for the time being. After that... well, we go from there."

"What, you don't have a plan?" she asked, sitting up to playfully examine his inked upper body, tracing lines on his stomach.

"Nope." He smirked and wrestled her tickling hand off him. "So, I've been wondering. How do you feel about living with an excessively tattooed ex-con and his dysfunctional family?"

"You've got tattoos? I can barely see them under all the bandages. And I'm sure your relatives can get their own place," she added, wrinkling her nose.

"It's going to be rocky for a while, you know."

"I know."

"I won't be able to find a proper job until it all comes down, we're gonna be scrutinized..."

"I won't be able to find a proper job either. We'll manage."

"Nothing is ever going to be the way it was before."

"I'm not sure I'd want it to."

"You lost a lot in all this," he continued, his finger gently tracing lines up and down her arm.

"And I think you lost more than a couple of toes. We will adapt. Besides, I think I might have gained something too", she replied as she propped herself over his chest to look into his eyes closely, her expression growing serious. "I meant it, you know. About falling in love with a certain inmate. It might not have been my smartest move, but it's the truth nonetheless."

"I love you, too," he whispered, his gaze flying from her eyes to her mouth again.

She lowered her head to drop a kiss at the corner of his lips and whispered against his skin, fighting a chuckle, "Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about your brother. He's a charmer, that one."

He flipped them over, resting the full length of his body over hers, his hands on her wrists. She caught a glimpse of his most genuine smile before he bit at her throat gently and said, "I'm gonna make you regret that, Tancredi".


End file.
